


Give Me the Gun

by pennywife



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Abusive Rick, Accidental Incest, Awkward Sexual Situations, Disturbing Themes, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Weird Shit, threats of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennywife/pseuds/pennywife
Summary: “Real Father of The Year, huh?”





	Give Me the Gun

**Author's Note:**

> DO NOT SKIP THE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF INCEST, MENTIONS OF INCEST, ACCIDENTAL INCEST, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL ABUSE, HIGHLY HIGHLY DUBIOUS CONSENT, OR BRIEF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE TRIGGER YOU. REREAD THE WARNINGS BECAUSE THIS COULD VERY WELL NOT BE FOR YOU. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Beth groaned, afraid to open her eyes and face the bright rays of morning. With drunken reluctance she unclenched one of her lids and found relief at finding the room still drenched in total darkness.

Falling asleep with a glass of Merlot still cupped tightly in her hand had become something of a habit for Beth. It was for this reason that waking up to a cool trickle of liquid against her thigh was nothing out of the ordinary— no reason to be startled or surprised. It was practically _expected_ at this point. What Beth didn’t expect to feel, however, was the continued dipping of the bed as someone slid beneath the covers behind her. 

_Jerry._

She opened her mouth to whisper his name, to ask what on earth he was doing back here so late; and found her tongue had become cotton in her mouth. Aside from the dull throb of pain at the back of Beth’s skull she was still trapped in a haze of drunkenness. Her lips pursed together, tried to form words, but only a tiny croak could spill forth.

“Shhh.” He hushed her, moving in close enough to wrap his thin arms around her waist.

Beth stiffened. This wasn’t the first time Jerry had popped back into the house to make love to her, desperate and sad and familiar. Sometimes he’d even just come over to hold her close to his chest like a child with a doll. It was clear a part of Jerry still needed her. Beth didn’t want to admit it, but a part of her had missed feeling needed.

She pulled away only slightly, clumsily reaching toward the nightstand to set down the remnants in her glass. Then she melted, slid back into his arms like an old and unbreakable habit. It took only a moment before the hand at her belly trailed down, cold fingertips dancing at the edge of her panties. She was vaguely aware of the sting of his nails as they dragged too hard against her thigh, recognized at once the stench of alcohol on his breath. It was strong, masking even the smell of her own spilled wine. He wore the odor like a blanket, filling her nostrils and clinging to the back of her throat.

Hennessy. Beth almost laughed. She hadn’t smelled that on anyone’s breath this closely since college; sticky parties in frat-house basements while Jerry was holed up in his dorm. It was somehow both familiar and foreign, but beneath lied something she couldn’t quite place. Sharp, iron; almost like dried blood on her coat after work. Even through the numbness in her face she could feel her brows furrowing, tried once more to part her lips to ask and felt them slam shut at the sensation of a calloused palm gripping the bare flesh of her ass.

 _Oh God,_ Beth thought to herself as she gripped the edge of the comforter.

It had been so long since she was touched like that— so unapologetic and warm. There’d been men since Jerry, almost more than she’d like to admit; but even still it was rarely ever like this. Lately she’d started pulling her hair up into a bun at the top of her head when she knew she’d likely fall asleep drinking, and was suddenly especially glad for it. His body wasn’t cradling hers, not exactly; but she could still feel the low and heavy breaths fluttering out softly against the nape of her neck.

His fingers gripped her harder, kneading and rubbing every inch of her cheek. Warm and inviting, she felt his pinky press against the tight hole at the cleft of her ass. It was something new, flooded the front of her panties with warmth. She could feel it circling intently, and the threat of penetration was enough to make her eyes roll back into her head.

“Oh God.” Beth moaned, just barely over a whisper.

“That’s right, M-Morty. Say it again. Tell me I’m a fucking god.”

It took a good ten seconds for Beth’s brain to process the words she’d just heard, and another five to realize whose voice had uttered them. There was a sharp burst of realization, like a match lighting at the back of her head. It wasn’t blood she had smelled before. It had been _motor oil._

Beth didn’t wait another second. Her body launched over, ripped the cord to the lamp so hard it nearly broke. Yellow light exploded into the room, making clear the horror that had just taken place.

“Beth?”

Rick’s eyes widened as he glanced wildly around the room, throwing his hands up into his hair at the realization of his mistake.

Beth felt vomit climb its way up her throat. She could feel the contractions in her stomach, readying to expel the bottle she’d downed after dinner. She clutched the red fabric covering her stomach as though she’d been shot, lip quivering as she sat up on her knees at the edge of the bed. 

“You thought you were in _Morty’s room?!”_

Rick leapt to his feet, still looking horrified. This was the first time she had ever seen her father look afraid, and knew then that it was true. A mascara-greyed tear spilled over the edge of her waterline, rolled smoothly down over the edge of Beth’s cheek.

“Morty.” She repeated, looking more bewildered and hurt than anything else. “My son... Our— How long— How long has this been—“

“No, no, no, Beth— Sweetie— Listen I’m gonna— I’m gonna make it— I’m gonna make it all go away.”

Beth jerked her head up towards him, screwing her face up in confusion. Rick’s palms were out flat in front of himself, a familiar gesture of appeasement.

“Gonna help you.” Her father repeated urgently, reaching to his side to pull out a strange looking gun. “Gonna make it all go away.”

“Don’t you fucking d—“

Beth flinched as a bolt of light shot far over her head and into the honey-painted wall behind her.

He’d missed. He’d missed by fucking feet. 

“Huh.” Rick murmured in awe, swaying violently on his feet.

Beth wasted no time. She sprang forwards over the mattress like a feline predator, half-roaring and half-screaming as she reached for whatever the fuck he’d tried to shoot her with.

Rick pulled away, shoulder blades slamming against the wall and knocking down a picture-frame as Beth tore into him. There was no argument as to whether or not he was far stronger than her, years of experience fighting and grappling. He tried his best to lift the weapon high over his head and out of her reach, but it was no use. He was still nearly blackout-drunk.

Beth, on the other hand, had been sobered by her own rage and fear. She jumped and ripped the gun from her father’s grip, then did the only thing she could think to do.

She fucking _ran._

“No!” Rick shouted after her, but by then Beth was nearly at the bottom of the steps.

She veered to the right, bare feet sliding against the hardwood. Wind and rain whipped through the house as she flung open the back door, bolted out into the yard like a chased rabbit.

 _I can do it,_ Beth thought to herself, pumping her already tired legs. _I can hop the fence, get to the neighbor’s—_

Green light lit up the picketed wall in front of her, cutting off her path. The sudden sight of it took her by surprise, made her knees buckle and sent her falling ass-first onto the wet grass. The cheating bastard. It was a fucking portal. Rick stepped out of it calmly, suddenly looking nearly completely sober. He beckoned towards her with his fingers, unfazed as the swirling vortex closed in on itself behind him.

“Beth, give me the—“ Rick paused to burp, taking another confident step towards his daughter, “— hand me the gun.”

“Fuck you!”

Beth gripped the weapon with both hands, pointed it right at the center of Rick’s chest. Her arms were shaking violently, no matter how desperately she tried to keep them steady. 

“I know how this looks. But listen to me, if you hand me the device we can all just—“

“You really think I’m that much of an _idiot?_ I’m not just gonna _willingly_ let you kill me!”

“What?” Rick scoffed, genuinely confused. “That thing won’t k—“

“I _hate_ you! I wanna blow your stupid fucking brains out! You monster!“ Beth growled through gritted teeth, lips pulled back into a snarl.

Her father’s gun-shaped invention began clattering even more in her grip, metal mouth pointing wildly all over the yard. He took another step and her aim steadied. She rose up to her knees, spine turning to steel in her back.

“You take another step near me and I’ll—“ Beth grasped for the words, eyes searching the older man’s face for any sign of fear or weakness. Whatever this thing did, her father certainly wasn’t afraid of it being used on him. “I’ll break it! Yeah, that’s right you fucking asshole; I’ll _break it!”_

“You know I can just build another one of those, right?“

Beth let out a wounded, angry groan that rose high up over the patter of rain on the roof behind them. He didn’t even look scared anymore. He didn’t look ashamed. He looked fucking bored, and the sight of his lax face set her entire brain on fire again.

“That’s my— He’s my fucking son! Your _grandson!_ You fucking monster! I hate you! I fucking _hate you!”_

“You think I give a shit? This isn’t even your _original Morty._ I’m not even— I’m not even your real _father._ Not in this dimension anyway.”

Beth froze, voice dropping to hardly anything more than a whisper. “Wh-What— Then who—“

“Your father and son are buried out in this backyard somewhere. Probably nothing but fuckin’ bones right now. Had all their flesh eaten up by worms.” Rick emphasized his words by wiggling his fingers tauntingly before dropping them back down into his pockets. “Your Rick accidentally blew their brains out in the garage. Real Father of The Year, huh?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill myself!”

“Do it. I’ll just go wake up Morty and we’ll go to another—“ Rick paused to belch, bright green liquid trailing down from the corners of his lips, “— dimension where his mother hasn’t slit her wrists yet.”

Beth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t know anything could be worse than the horrifying truth from upstairs. She was wrong. She was so fucking wrong. Somehow this— this was worse than all of it.

“You— You— You’re a fucking... You’re a psychopath. You’re a fucking psychopath.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say. The horse-surgeon doesn’t fall that far from the scientist.”

Beth’s arms dropped, weapon clattering down against her folded thigh. Her eyes stared blankly at a knot in the wood of the fence, jaw hanging open and empty.

“Give me the gun, Beth.” Rick coaxed softly, close enough now to grab it if he really wanted. “Give it to me and I’ll— We’ll— we’ll go back upstairs and I’ll fuck you. Yeah, that’s it, I’ll fuck you. I’ll let you ride the Rick train all night long if you want.”

“What?” Beth hissed, shaking her head.

“Tell me what’s really on your mind, Sweetie. Are you pissed because I’m fucking Morty? Or do you wanna kill me right now because I’ve never even once willingly laid a finger on _you?“_

”You’re sick. That’s all it is. You’re just a sick, sick man.” 

“Maybe. But what’s it say about— about you that you had no idea that any of this was going on? Hm, Beth? Your own son— own father— right in the room across the hall?” 

Beth stared at him silently, fingers and lip trembling. She looked up into Rick’s eyes, her own swelling with tears that hadn’t yet spilled over. She let out a shaky breath, then shoved the weapon right out into his hands. 

Rick smiled. It was subtle, soft. For a split second Beth even mused that it almost looked like pity. 

“You’re a good—,” Rick belched, “— girl, Sweetie.” 

He pressed the cool barrel between her brows, pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation. It made an odd noise, an explosion of light against Beth’s eardrums. She recognized the sound, like something from one of those old science-fiction movies her father used to watch when she was small. 

“There.” Rick sighed, relief and pleasure both evident in his voice. “All those pesty little memories blown right outta your brain.” 

Beth waited on her knees with her eyes clenched shut, stomach churning wildly beneath her ribcage. She didn’t open them up until at last Rick took her by the arm and hoisted her to her feet. 

“Wh-what am I doing out here in the yard?” She asked coyly, shivering from the cool pelting of rain overhead. 

Rick shushed her gently, helped her back inside and all the way upstairs into her room. 

Beth kept her mouth clamped shut, even when he whispered goodnight and closed the door behind himself. She crawled back into bed without bothering to peel off her rain-soaked clothes. She pulled the covers up to her chin, staring horrified up into the darkness that painted the ceiling.

Rick was wrong. _Something_ had gone wrong. The memories weren’t gone— not a single goddamn one of them. 

Everything that had just happened was still fucking there. Beth had no idea what to do with any of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Really on the fence about whether to continue this or simply leave it as a stand-alone but I hope you have a great day and all your dreams come true love u goodnight


End file.
